


Rails With Pails

by theresnoreason



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theresnoreason/pseuds/theresnoreason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At 9 sweeps, and half his floor culled, Sollux brings his worries about not having any concupiscent quadrants filled with Karkat, his moirail who seems to have the same problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rails With Pails

It wasn’t long after Sollux’s 9th wriggling day that you both really started to worry. Just a few weeks before, the drones had come through his hivestem and collected genetic material. Though, more accurately, they culled about half his floor (if the blood slicking the hallways was any indication). It was precisely this situation that led him to your hive this absurdly late in the evening.

“Are all your other quadrantth thtill empty?” Were the first words out of his mouth when you opened the door, only to slam it back in his face. You turned, fully expecting him to let himself in when he didn’t hear it lock behind you. Sollux did just that as you sat back down in front of your husktop.

“You had to come to my hive to ask that, why exactly?” He was lingering in the doorway. Something was definitely bothering him and you would definitely get to that shortly. Giving him a hard time just came before being a proper moirail sometimes. He gave out a kind of defeated sigh and leaned back against the door.

“The retht of mine are empty and I don’t know who elthe I should…” he trailed off, almost in disbelief with what he was saying. You were watching him pretty intently at that point. He was downright disturbed about something, “A lot of throllth in my thtem were culled over the latht week,” he tried again. You could feel your face drop at that. Shit, no wonder he looked ready to panic, “And… and if your other quadrantth are empty, I can’t,” he remembered to breath at least, “I can’t let mythelf get culled knowing that…” oh god, he was barely able to say it while you were still dumbstruck with the sudden realization the both of you could meet your end by the time the perigee was over. Still, that didn’t explain why he was at your hive, really.

“Wait, wait, Sollux, calm the fuck down. Why are you over here in the first place?” You managed to grind out firmly. He seemed to freeze and kind of shrink back into the door. He took a deep breath and gave you a look safely hidden behind his glasses.

“KK… look, just… do you…” considering what he ended up suggesting, it wasn’t any wonder he couldn’t quite get it out, “Do you have a bucket around?”

Some typical hostile banter, convincing, and a pail out in the open later you were here, awkwardly pressing your best friend and moirail against the wall. Of course, a few minutes have passed and neither of you are beyond having your hands awkwardly on each other’s shoulders and hips. You keep realizing Sollux is stupidly tall while he seems to have shut down entirely in the face of actually going through with his suggestion.

This is stupid. This is _really_ stupid.

But you both could be killed.

… yeah, there’s always that. With that freshly in your head, you pull your idiot friend’s face down to yours and finally get this show, hopefully, on the road with a sloppy kiss. His fingers tighten around your shoulders, but you aren’t getting much of a response out of him. You pull back and scowl, noting that at least some focus seems to have returned to his face.

“Hey. Dumbass. You’re the one who came to my door a panic addled mess to proposition me,” you remind him. He gives you a blank, unamused look.

“Yeth, the blood of my neighborth decorating the hallth really put me in the mood,” he bites back, before effectively swallowing whatever you were going to say with a particularly aggressive kiss of his own. His hand slides up into your hair, his fingers rubbing against one of your horns, and you think you can maybe get into this enough to keep you both alive for at least another sweep. You wrap your arms fully around him, trying to take back some control of the situation. Like hell you’re letting him take any more dominance than he needs to in this relationship. Of course, you can’t help the damning whimper you make when he squeezes your horn, your hips pushing into his. You’re practically on your toes and he’s hunching down uncomfortably, it seems. There is so much about this arrangement making it as awkward as possible, so you pull him away from the wall to the couch on the other side of the room.

In a swift motion, he manages to sit down before you with you straddling his legs. Your heads bump roughly at the unexpected movement, whatever you were building up effectively lost as you both let out a steady stream of swears. You rub at your forehead where it collided with his in irritation, shifting in his lap in a futile attempt to get comfortable. If only you shoved more food down his throat on a regular basis, maybe he wouldn’t be so stupidly jagged and bony. You finally look back up when he’s suspiciously still quiet, the look on his face can only be described as barely contained horror.

“What?”

“Thith… ithn’t working,” he sounds really frustrated. You think he’s ready to leave, to try his luck at finding someone to actually fill the right quadrant with when his fingers hook under one of your legs to turn you around in his lap, settling you between his legs and facing away.

“Oh, so I don’t have to look at your hideous face anymore? Is that what wasn’t working?” You wonder sarcastically as he pulls you back against his chest. Really, you’re freaking out inside a little more, especially when one of those hands start sliding up the inside of your thigh.

“Becauthe looking at thomeone ath picturethque ath yourthelf ith a huge turn on,” he lisps into your shoulder and you can practically feel his eyes rolling. You reach up and hook a finger under the bridge of his glasses, flinging them across the room in response. He ineffectively pushes a hand against your crotch and you give a heavy, exasperated sigh, throwing in an over exaggerated eye roll for good measure. Gripping both of his hands in your own, you shove one up your shirt and put the other over your horns.

“Now please tell me what I can do to make this clusterfuck of awkward go any faster,” you growl out, “I don’t know what you were thinking, but the point of this is to actually- _ahh_ fuck… there you go…” the idiot is finally putting those fingers to use, running a thumb firmly over one horn while his fingers press and rub at the base, his other hand running slowly up your side, dragging his nails along your skin. You relax against him, trailing your fingers down his arms, earning you a contented sigh against your neck. He rolls his hips against you tentatively, his fingers slowly getting used to the idea of familiarizing themselves with your body. You think this can actually be a thing and you two are making it happen. You grind yourself back against him, the two of you building a steady slow rhythm, gradually growing more at ease and letting the urgency of this act fall away. You brace your hands against his knees, pressing yourself against him more insistently when his clothed bulge begins to stir and wriggle beneath you.

Sollux shifts underneath you, leaning back fully. His hand working at your horn slides down to tease at the skin at your waist. You could just about kick yourself for the seriously undignified whining noise you make in response to losing the stimulation to you horns. It’s not even a second later that you hear the telltale crackling of Sollux’s psionics and find your head in a red and blue haze of “fuck yes” gripping and fondling your horns much more thoroughly. He’s automatically forgiven for the pathetic sounds he’s managing to force out of you now. He’s breathing hard in the crook of your neck, the hand back at the inside of your thigh much more welcome than earlier. Your own bulge snakes it’s way out of its sheath, swelling and pressing at the confining fabric of your pants, seeking something to grasp or penetrate.

You bring a hand up to his head, taking a hold of one of his horns. Your fingers tingle with the energy he’s exerting on your own horns, but he pulls away, a growl rumbling from deep in his throat between ragged breaths. All too quickly, his fingers find their way under your waistband and, the moment they brush directly across your bulge, you bat his hand away.

“Fuck, dammit, slow down!” You snap at him. You feel him frown against your neck, pressing his hand flat against the front of your pants roughly. Despite arching into his touch, you slap his hand away again, “Hey asshole, I said slow the fuck down!” Everything that was bothering you about this situation suddenly comes rushing back, front and center in your mind and you start cursing loudly as you try to scramble out of his lap.

“You were pretty much _jutht_ complaining I was going too slow,” he tries to keep you still, something you fully expected, but only serves to increase your panicked flailing. His grip is easy to break, but you pull yourself to one side of the couch, pushing him to the other side with your feet, landing a few good unhappy kicks in his side.

“I was complaining because you were _doing it wrong_ ,” you practically yell at him, curling into yourself, your face hurting from how deep your frown is. You are on the defensive and you are ready for a fight. Sollux stares at you in disbelief, an utter, ruffled, sweaty mess (though you’re sure you don’t look much better). Just when it seems like you can live with this, something insists on metaphorically slapping you upside the head. It’s almost like you’ve already resigned yourself to being culled but…

You feel your face soften as he gives you a look reflecting the desperation of your situation resurfaces. You don’t move when he shuffles to your end of the couch and tentatively pats you on the knee. Sollux’s shooshing was always a weird, kind of sloppy jumble of words getting caught in his oversized teeth, but dammit if it didn’t do wonders calming you down. You uncurl and let his arms slip around you, one hand patting your head and you feel the panic fade away. Instead, it’s steadily being replaced with a different kind of worry. This is your best friend, your moirail, this is for the both of you, and just like he couldn’t quite say earlier, you don’t think you could let yourself get culled while knowing he was just sitting around waiting for it to happen himself. What kind of moirail would that make you?

A really sucky one is what.

“Okay, okay, you sentimental idiot,” you grumble into his chest. He snorts at your comment, but doesn’t let go of you.

“Right, _I’m_ the one with all the feelth shoved tho deep in my nook, I’m laying crying eggth,” he replies and… you don’t even know what the hell that means.

“Sollux, what the actual fuck?” Though you do let out a weak laugh as he falls back dragging you on top of him. Somewhere in the haze of pale affection, lying on top of him, you remember you were in the middle of getting felt up, and neither of your bulges have forgotten. His arms tighten around you as you prop yourself up to look at him, his eerie, blank, two-toned eyes stare back at you.

“I know you have trouble with your thinkpan functioning, but if it ithn’t obviouth, I really don’t want either of uth to get culled before the perigee ith out,” and though he throws in the obligatory dig at your capacity to think, he’s as serious as he’ll get. You can feel his bulge still writhing beneath you and the layers of fabric separating it from yours. You _would_ be the two idiots to have a half assed feelings jam in the middle of pailing.

“Well I guess without me, you’d be some sort of starved dried out husk frozen in the middle of coding somewhere in that sinkhole of misery you call a hive,” and with that, you close your eyes and lean forward to kiss him properly, the romantic in you practically crying with joy that you might do something about this right. He works one leg between your thighs, but otherwise seems to be letting you take the lead for now. You hear the crackling of his powers flaring up again, the buzz managing to send a pleasant sort of tingling between your mouths. You shudder against him as he resumes squeezing and stroking at your horns with his mind. A somewhat strangled moan makes its way out of you as you break away from his lips to trail some kisses down his neck, weird flutter happening in your chest when your ministrations finally get more noise out of him than humming or sighs. Yes, this is definitely something you need more of.

He arches against you when you give his neck a particularly hard suck. It’s when he grinds against you again, you know for sure he’s got something you can only imagine is stupidly sizable and practically begging for more contact down there. Long, sharp angled fingers fist in the back of your shirt tightly as his psionics flare up for a last few strong, pulsing squeezes at your horns. That cloud of red and blue “fuck yes” shoots through you and before you can freak out again, you tell yourself you can do this. You can do this and now you kind of really want to. The crackling of psychic energy fades into silence, giving way to the sound of the two of you breathing heavily. You slowly settle yourself back on your knees, bringing your hands to Sollux’s zipper.

“Uh… KK…” no, you’re doing this, he can fuck off right now. So you shoosh him.

“No really, before you, uh-“

“Shoosh,” nothing weird going on here. Your suddenly clumsy fingers undo the button and manage to grab at the zipper.

“I should probably-“

“Shoosh, shoosh,” okay, zipper down. Okay, some sort of eldritch abomination that is your species’ junk is wiggling around underneath another layer of fabric that is your friend’s underwear. No big deal.

“I should probably warn-“

“Dammit, Sollux, shut the hell up before I start freaking out again!” Just pull down his pants. It’s simple just getting to know your friend’s ju- OH YOU CAN’T BE FUCKING SERIOUS.

You may have speculated on the possibility of him having two bulges before, but actually having them stare you in the face is another matter. A matter that propels you off the couch in shock.

“I wath trying to tell you, jeeth!” he protests, kicking his pants the rest of the way off as you pace a bit, “You really need to work on your lithtening thkillth, becauthe thith ith jutht getting thtupid, even for you,” you have your face in your hands, your bulge is starting to hurt from wiggling around ineffectually, and you aren’t even sure what you’ll do with two bulges on one troll (though your mind is already running away with a few helpful suggestions, dammit).

“That’s the kind of thing you fucking tell someone BEFORE they’re getting their hands all over your junk, Jesus tap-dancing Christ…” The rest of what you say is lost to your hands, but the groan laced heavily with frustration and anger from your friend throws off your thought processes.

“KK, if you haven’t notithed, I’m not any happier about thith than you are, but can you thtop being a wiggler long enough to make sure we both don’t have to worry about getting culled? You can go out and get yourthelf a shiny new matethprit or kithmethith or whatever the fuck you want tomorrow for all I care, but right now, jutht… jutht,” he loses steam and suddenly the idea that you’ve been kind of a massive douchelord about this introduces itself to your thinkpan, “When we get thith over with, I thwear I will cuddle the shit out of you and shoosh it better, but can we jutht get patht it firtht?” His lisping kind of totally ruined the entire delivery of that, but the sentiment and the pleading tone were there. Alright then, time to man up.

You find wherever your bucket went and plop it down with a noisy, far more arousing than it had any business to be, clatter between Sollux’s feet. He looks down at it in mild surprise and probably some horror as you busy yourself undoing your own pants. His face is hideously flushed and you’re sure there’s no shortage of color to your own, but you barely have your pants over your hips, naked from the waist to your knees when you find yourself unceremoniously pulled into Sollux’s lap again. The two of you are back where you started on the couch, only this time there’s a bucket between your feet and a pair of yellow bulges poking around between your legs. This time he plants a kiss to the side of your face and mumbles something about relaxing as your bulge finally twines itself around one of his. You grasp his hands, which are currently resting on your waist, holding you steady in his lap, a shaky breath leaving you as the sensation of another bulge sliding and twisting around your own hits you. It’s enough to make you feel completely stupid for putting it off.

It’s the other bulge prodding at your nook that makes your breath hitch. It pokes and prods and teases at the entrance, but doesn’t seem quite so sure about just fucking doing it already. If anything, it’s getting annoying and a glance at Sollux’s face tells you he’s concentrating too hard on holding it back to really ask if it’s okay.

“Just… just get on with it,” you tell him and with a relieved, choked moan, his bulge snakes itself into you, stretching and coiling excitedly. The other tightens around your bulge, fluid already seeping from the swollen organs as they slide and grasp at each other with increasing intensity. Sollux experimentally thrusts his hips up into you, burying himself deeper in your nook and hitting you in what you never eould have guessed were a lot of the right ways. You lean forward, groping for the pail at your feet as you rock back against him, trying not to lose yourself completely in a haze of pleasure. You have to try pretty hard to remind yourself there was a point to this (and ruining your couch certainly had no part in it).

“Sollux,” your voice is needy and breathy and coming out in way too many ways you don’t recognize. Your fingers grasp at the rim of the pail as you work to keep your momentum and slide the both of you off the couch at the same time. The arms around your waist tighten, the thrusting of narrow, bony hips against yours picking up in speed. Your knees hit the floor and the cluster that is yours and one of the bright yellow bulges coil and contract tightly around each other, just a few more moments shy of release. Letting your friend hold you steady, you bring the bucket as close between your legs as possible, not wanting to waste any of this genetic material.

It’s Sollux running his tongue over one of your horns that pushes you over the edge with a loud cry, his name and no less than the most colorful of your vocabulary on your lips. Your hands are shaking pretty badly as the genetic material splatters loudly against the metal of the bucket, sending a particularly wonderful shiver through your body, the sound being one you weren’t well acquainted with but found far more than satisfying. It isn’t long before you feel genetic material rushing into your nook, your asshole moirail cumming inside of you while his other bulge emptied itself into the bucket, still coiled around yours. Neither of you move for a bit, kneeling over the pail. Sollux finally pulls out of you, the rush of fluid draining into the bucket between you startlingly pleasant.

Arms trembling and fingers practically numb from sensation, you let the bucket thud against the floor before sliding it out of the way. With a sense of satisfaction completely unrelated to the afterglow, you note that the bucket is nearly full. The satisfaction is short lived before it gives way to the confusion of being dragged backwards, back onto the couch and back on top of your unfortunately bony, but comfortable enough for now moirail. Neither of you say anything, your arms draped over his shoulders, his chin resting on top of your head, and your legs tangling with each other, you barely notice a faint blue and red glow before your TV flickers to life. It provides some much needed background noise in the wake of the heavy silence that settles way too quickly over the two of you.

However, as Sollux runs his hand idly across your back, occasionally shooshing you, you decide the two of you are probably beyond content at the moment, as rare as that is for either of you.

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the kink meme fillathon, you can find the prompt over here: http://homesmut.livejournal.com/6376.html?thread=7218920#t7218920
> 
> More fun than I thought and then it all got away from me


End file.
